Chapter 12: The Art Teacher

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Time ticked by, second by second, as I pored over the chemistry teacher’s file, afraid I might overlook some crucial detail. Just then, a commotion broke out in the corridor outside the classroom—a group of students from the neighboring class rushed past, clearly in some kind of trouble.

I hurried out, grabbing a familiar classmate to ask, “What happened?”

He replied breathlessly, “Our class monitor just had a sudden attack!”

“What kind of attack?”

“An asthma attack. She happened to forget her medication today, so it flared up. I can’t talk now—I have to find a teacher!” With that, he dashed off.

But I quickly caught him by the sleeve. “Wait, what class were you just in?”

“Chemistry. We were doing an experiment.” He barely finished his sentence before running off.

“Chemistry experiment…” I murmured.

“What’s wrong?” Ye Xinran suddenly appeared beside me, startling me once more.

“Could you stop sneaking up on me like that? You’re going to give me a heart attack!” I said, exasperated.

She rolled her eyes at me but said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

I sighed and asked her, “When you watch the chemistry teacher conduct experiments, what goes through your mind?”

“Chemistry experiments? Nothing, really.” Her face betrayed no emotion, leaving me utterly baffled. But then I remembered she’d graduated long ago; what could she possibly think about chemistry experiments now?

How foolish of me to forget that.

So I ignored her and walked over to Fatty’s seat. “Fatty, when the chemistry teacher does experiments, what do you think about?”

Fatty looked puzzled, but answered anyway, “I’m curious, I guess—wondering what changes might happen. But since there have been a lot of failed experiments, I’m also a bit scared at the same time.”

Curiosity and fear?

Isn’t that exactly what the clue was about? The fear of the unknown…

While I mulled this over, Fatty’s face grew anxious. “Tong Yang, do you think that classmate from next door… might die?”

I was taken aback. If what Fatty said was true and the neighboring class was conducting a chemistry experiment when the asthma attack happened, it’s possible that curiosity or fear triggered the episode. If so, then the worst could happen.

But that was only one possibility. Besides…

I checked my phone—no message from the game saying I’d failed. If I’d guessed wrong, I would have sent in my answer already, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“It’s just asthma—she won’t die. Why are you so worried? Do you have a crush on her?” I teased.

“Who likes her? I just… well, with all these deaths lately, who wouldn’t be scared? And it’s not just me—look at everyone’s faces!”

At his words, I glanced around. Sure enough, as Fatty had said, everyone looked uneasy, as if the string of deaths had left us all on edge, anxiously alert at the slightest disturbance.

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Fatty went on, “Have you heard? The reason for all these deaths at school is a curse!”

“Oh? What curse?” My curiosity was piqued. I’d heard something similar from a student council member before—what exactly was this curse?

Fatty shook his head. “I’m not sure. Just what I’ve heard. But Ye Han is looking into it—you know how interested he is in this stuff.”

Ye Han? That made sense; he was always fascinated by the supernatural.

But this wasn’t something that could be easily investigated. The so-called curse was just a game—maybe I was the cursed one, and the classmates who died were just casualties of the game.

I patted Fatty on the shoulder, trying to reassure him. “Don’t be afraid. The students who died—it was just an accident. Just take care of yourself.”

There wasn’t much else I could do but offer these words.

Fatty nodded with a sigh. “That’s what my parents said too. I didn’t want to come to class, but they wouldn’t let me skip, saying the college entrance exams are coming and I can’t afford to miss lessons.”

That explained a lot. No wonder everyone was still attending class despite the deaths—if it had truly been dangerous, parents would be much more concerned.

But since all the deaths were ruled as accidents, parents had less reason to worry.

I suspected Fatty wasn’t alone—everyone probably felt the same.

Returning to my seat, I pulled out the student files I’d torn from the archives.

The asthma attack next door made me wonder if this round of the game might focus on illness.

I checked our class records—no one had any serious conditions. Maybe I was just worrying too much, but just to be sure, I messaged Ye Xinran, asking her to help check other classes for students with illnesses like asthma.

I also told her I needed to take a leave of absence to visit the infirmary and check on the student who’d had the asthma attack, and maybe find out what happened.

When I arrived at the infirmary, Ye Xinran had already replied with a list of names and details of some students with medical conditions.

I put away my phone and entered the infirmary. Only the asthmatic student was there.

She looked pale, and when she saw me, her eyes flashed with anxiety, then turned puzzled when she recognized me.

I was surprised too—wasn’t she one of the students who’d attended art class with Liu Yan yesterday?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, confused.

I smiled. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Me?” She was taken aback, but then nodded.

“Thank you.” I expressed my gratitude and then asked, “Why did you suddenly have an asthma attack?”

“I get attacks when I’m nervous. I saw the chemistry teacher doing an experiment and got anxious, but I didn’t have my medication, so that’s what happened.” Her answer matched exactly what I’d guessed.

“Let me ask you—did you see what happened yesterday between Liu Yan and the art teacher?” I pressed on.

I asked because ever since yesterday, something had nagged at me. Everything I knew was from the art teacher’s perspective, not my own eyes—there were doubts.

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She shook her head immediately. “No, I didn’t see anything. At the time, Liu Yan and the art teacher had an argument during art class. The teacher sent me and the other students out. After a while, we heard the teacher scream, and then found out about the art teacher slitting her wrists.”

“Thank you.” I thanked her and left the infirmary, but before going, I asked, “What’s your name?”

She replied candidly, “Chen Xin. Why, are you trying to hit on me?”

I shook my head and left, hearing her mutter behind me, “So weird!”

On my way back to the classroom, I happened to run into the art teacher at the foot of the building. She looked unwell, hurriedly pulling a suitcase behind her, apparently not seeing me.

I stepped in front of her and called out, “Ms. Lin!”

She stopped at the sound of my voice, offered a faint smile, and nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Seeing her with a suitcase, I asked curiously, “Ms. Lin, are you…?”

She finally stopped to answer, “I’ve resigned. After what happened with Liu Yan, I don’t feel qualified to teach anymore.”

Her resignation instantly reminded me of what Fatty had said earlier—that the art teacher had broken up with the chemistry teacher. Could this be why she was leaving?

Curious, I asked, “Is it because of the chemistry teacher?”

Her eyes darted nervously, clearly not expecting the question. She just smiled faintly. “Some matters are for adults. Students shouldn’t concern themselves—just focus on your studies. I’m leaving now.”

“Wait, Ms. Lin!” I called after her. “Can I ask you one more question?”

She sighed, nodding. “You sure have a lot of questions!”

With her permission, I asked, “Teacher, about what happened with Liu Yan yesterday—you lied, didn’t you?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the art teacher’s eyes filled with panic. She stammered, “W-what are you talking about? I… I didn’t…”

“Teacher, it wasn’t Liu Yan who wanted to use her own blood to paint that picture. You were teaching her, and you even went so far as to hurt yourself—risking everything to cut your own artery, right?” As I spoke, the fear in her eyes grew more obvious and she started shaking her head.

I pressed on, “I don’t know why you did it, but I think it must have something to do with the chemistry teacher, doesn’t it?”

Thud!

Her suitcase slipped from her grasp and crashed to the ground. She crouched down, clutching her head, overcome with pain.

“I didn’t mean to… I just never thought Liu Yan would… she would jump and end her life!”

“Tell me, teacher,” I said, helping her up and guiding her aside. Luckily, it was class time—no one else was around.